Six Weeks
by LittleWords
Summary: If she and Jim still spoke, he'd probably find it funny that the sight of someone eating his old lunch at his old desk made her physically ill. PB&J.
1. Chapter 1

Six Weeks

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I'm in college. I own nothing.

Pam tapped her foot anxiously on the tile floor of the ladies' room of Dunder-Mifflin Scranton while she waited out the longest three minutes and sixteen seconds of her life. She thought she'd throw up from sheer nervousness, though she knew that her stomach was completely empty.

At first, Pam thought she had a stomach bug; one of those 24-hour things that went away without a trace by the next morning, but this was the second day in a row that the mere sight of Ryan's lunch, a ham and cheese sandwich, sent her to the ladies' room, her own lunch of mixed-berry yogurt suddenly unwelcome in her stomach. If she and Jim still spoke, he'd probably find it funny that the sight of someone eating his old lunch in his old desk made her physically ill.

As soon as she'd made her way back to reception, Dwight called her to check her symptoms on WebMD. At first she'd humored him, answering each one of his questions. The symptoms had persisted for two days, and were made worse by certain foods. She'd had a mild fever, but nothing brain-boilingly serious. She giggled when Dwight's cheeks reddened, knowing what his next question was.

"Pamela, when was your last, uhm, menstrual period," he mumbled into the receiver, his hand covering his mouth.

Pam couldn't resist. "When was my last what, Dwight? I couldn't hear you."

Dwight glared at her. "Your last, you know." He cleared his throat and cupped his hand over his mouth and the receiver again. "Menstrual period."

Deciding he'd suffered enough, she checked her calendar and replied. "It looks like…April 15th."

"A month exactly from Michael's birthday," Dwight said matter-of-factly. Then, his eyes widened and his head snapped upright, his eyes meeting Pam's and mirroring her look of utter shock.

It was June 8th.

"No," she whispered. "Impossible."

Dwight watched the color drain completely from Pam's face. The phone slipped from her hand, landing on the desk with a loud clatter. The sound seemed to snap her out of her dizzy reverie, and she quietly placed the phone back in its cradle, pressing a hand to her abdomen. Then, she ran to the bathroom with a hand over her mouth, barely making it into the handicapped stall before her stomach began to convulse yet again with the sobs that racked her small body.

Pam heard the bathroom door open with a creak and quickly attempted to compose herself. She wiped the sweat from her brow with some toilet paper and straightened her clothes and hair. She flushed the toilet and took a few deep, cleansing breaths before exiting the stall. Standing right outside the door was Dwight, a home pregnancy test in hand. A startled noise escaped Pam's mouth.

"Dwight, what are you doing in here? This is the ladies' room!"

She looked down at the object in his hands. "Why do you have that?"

"I always have one. In my drawer, next to the pepper spray. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"In case of this. Someone in the office thinks they're pregnant and needs results. FAST." He handed her the small box. "Here. First Response. I found that it delivers the fastest results and withstands the Dwight Schrute five point pregnancy test durability test."

Pam could only nod. If Jim were here, they'd be laughing like hyenas right now. Dwight had just implied that not only had he taken a pregnancy test, but strength-tested it as well. They would've spent half the day trying to figure out what the five points were. She smiled slightly, sadly, at the thought. Now was not a time for laughing.

"It takes on average three minutes and sixteen seconds to provide results. I have another one if you need it."

Tests. Dwight had taken several, perhaps assorted, pregnancy _tests_. And timed them.

"You have two pregnancy tests in your desk at all times?"

"Yes. I found that accuracy is an issue with such a small target."

"Well, um, thanks Dwight. I'm gonna go ahead and, you know…" she motioned toward the stall.

"Oh, right. Yeah," Dwight said. He made no move to exit the ladies' room.

"Get out, Dwight."

"Shy bladder, Pamela?" He smirked.

"Women's restroom, Dwight."

"Right. I will be waiting outside if you need assistance."

"I think I've got it under control. Wait, Dwight, did anyone see you come in?"

"No. Michael has everyone in the conference room so he can rehearse his toast for your wedding. I slipped away undetected."

Oh, no. _Breathe, Beesly,_ she thought._ One thing at a time._ For some reason, the calming thought came to her in Jim's voice. That was probably why it actually worked. Pam took the test from Dwight and set her shoulders. Her mouth was pressed in a thin line of determination. _One thing at a time._

"Okay. Thanks, Dwight."

He nodded mechanically and exited the restroom, leaving Pam alone.

… … …

Pam checked her watch for the eleventh time in the same minute. One minute and thirty seconds left. One minute and thirty seconds until the stick balanced on the toilet paper dispenser turned either pink or blue and decided her fate.

She'd gone through all the different reasons for her menstrual tardiness. Maybe it was stress from planning the wedding that was making her late. She'd heard of women fretting their periods away; it was a possibility. Maybe it was Jim's absence, the sudden loss of her best friend wreaking havoc on her system. Maybe it was a combination of the two.

But Pam knew, deep in the pit of her soul, exactly what it was. She knew what color the stick would turn, and she knew what she'd have to do.

It wasn't going to be pretty.

… … …

For Roy Anderson, today was just like any other day. It didn't really matter that it was two days until his wedding day. Honestly, that was really more for Pam than for him. He'd be happy being engaged forever, except that for the past three months Pam had been withholding sex, saying she wanted their first time as a married couple to be "special." Roy had told her that unless she wanted it to be over quick that was a bad idea, but she just laughed and told him he'd manage. In that sense, he was pretty excited about the wedding. The wedding night, anyway.

That morning, Roy and the warehouse guys had gotten their A.M. shipments out early and played basketball until lunchtime. When the clock struck twelve, he toweled the sweat off himself haphazardly and made his way up to the office to see Pam, but found the receptionist's desk empty.

"Hey, uh, Dwight? You seen Pam?"

"Pamela has gone home sick today."

"Huh. I didn't even know she was under the weather."

Roy tried Pam's cell once and got her voicemail. He didn't leave a message. He took his lunch out of the fridge and went back down to the warehouse.

"Hey, guys!" he called. "Game ON!"

He was only going to ask Pam if she minded him eating downstairs anyway.

… … …

Pam's legs dangled from the edge of the green vinyl covered bed in her doctor's office as she waited for him to return with the sonogram equipment. He had confirmed the test, and now it was time to "see how photogenic this fetus is!" Sometimes her doctor reminded her of Michael, which, Pam decided, was more than a little unsettling. She made a mental note to look for a different OB-GYN.

About an hour later, Pam emerged from the clinic with a bottle of prenatal vitamins and her baby's first picture. She'd been done in the office thirty minutes ago, but her doctor insisted that she wait to leave until her crying had subsided. She couldn't see through all of the tears, anyway.

Six weeks along, the doctor had said. Six weeks.

Casino Night.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews! They're the reason I got this chapter up so fast. Keep being nice and I just might tell you what went down after Casino Night :. I apologize in advance for the rough language in this chapter. There are a few F-bombs, but I think they fit. Well, here is chapter two. Hope you like it.

Six Weeks

Chapter Two

Pam was finished packing her things by the time Roy got home from work. All of the things she wanted to keep from this place fit into the luggage set she'd bought for their honeymoon. She left her ticket to Cancun on the kitchen counter. Maybe Roy could take Kenny or trade it for first class or something. Pam honestly didn't care much about it at the moment.

Pam's priorities had shifted dramatically the second she saw the strip on the pregnancy test had turned pink. If she was going to be a mother, she had to do things right by her baby. She couldn't enter into a safe but relatively loveless marriage with Roy because it wouldn't be fair to bring any baby, let alone Jim's, into a home without love. She could no longer justify settling for what was safe and comfortable, because this baby deserved better. If she wanted a happy baby, she'd have to be happy herself.

_From now on_, she thought, _Ol' Pammy's going to get what she wants._

Suddenly she realized how much she hated the name 'Pammy.'

When Roy came home, he didn't immediately notice that anything had changed. He didn't notice the absence of Pam's artwork on the walls, or that the pillows on their couch had disappeared. He didn't notice that there were no books in their bookshelves. He didn't even see Pam's luggage set by their door.

What he did see, however, was Pam's small form sitting on the edge of their bed staring at a small black velvet box in her hands. She looked up when he flung his work shirt onto the floor, startled out of her own thoughts. He walked over to the bed and placed a kiss on top of her head and an arm around her shoulders.

"What's the matter, Pammy?" Pam winced.

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and handed him the small box.

"I can't marry you, Roy."

He dropped his arm to his side and stared at her, incredulous. "Why?"

Pam thought for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to put it into words.

"What's my favorite yogurt flavor? Do you know?"

"I don't know, vanilla? Is that what's wrong, you need yogurt?"

She shook her head. "Mixed berry. Mixed berry is my favorite."

"So? What's it got to do with anything?"

"It's the only flavor I've bought for the last ten years. What's my favorite book?"

"Somethin' about art? Pam, I don't know."

"Favorite chips? Come on, that's an easy one."

"Yeah. KC Masterpiece."

"Those are _your_ favorite chips. I like French Onion Sun Chips. Do you know me at all, Roy? When's my birthday?"

"February."

"My birthday is ten days from today, Roy."

"Really?"

Pam nodded. Roy looked stunned.

"I don't love you anymore, Roy. I haven't for a long time."

"Pam, I'm sorry," he pleaded. "I can change, come on-"

She put up a hand to stop him. "It's too late, Roy."

He had tears in his eyes and Pam's heart broke for him. She didn't love him anymore, but she didn't enjoy this.

"Why, Pam? Is there someone else?" His voice was tinged with anger now, but Pam wasn't going to lie to him. After ten years, no matter now neglectful, Roy deserved the truth.

"Yeah. Well, there was. He left."

"Halpert?!" He yelled. "You're leaving me for _Halpert_?"

"I'm leaving you because I don't love you!"

"Do you love him?"

"Roy, I don't know if that's a good-"

He cut her off. "Do. You. Love. Him?"

Tears welled in Pam's eyes again. "Yeah, I do."

"I _knew_ it! I fucking _knew it!" _

He threw the velvet box, narrowly missing Pam's head. Pam had honestly never seen him this angry. In the ten years she'd known him, she'd never actually been _afraid_ of him before.

"Well, did you fuck him?"

"Roy!"

"Did you?!" He was so close to her face that she could smell his breath, feel the moisture of his exhalation against her skin.

"Yes," she whispered. Before either of them knew what was happening, Roy slapped her across the face. Pam fell to the ground and Roy was immediately remorseful for what he'd done. He'd never hit a woman before, ever.

"Oh my God, Pam, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to-" He offered her his hand and she ignored it, opting instead to stand on her own. She'd never been so angry in her entire life. To hell with sparing Roy's feelings.

"I'm pregnant, Roy. It's not yours, and I'm leaving. I was going to find a nicer way to tell you but, well, fuck you, Roy. I never want to see you again."

… … …

Pam checked in to her room at the Scranton Inn at 7:30 that evening, feeling for the first time in ten years like she was doing something right. She set the apartment rental application she'd picked up earlier that day on the small desk and began to fill it out. If all went well, she could move in the next day. There was only one thing Pam had to do before starting her new life. Of everything she'd done today, this would require the most courage.

She had to tell Jim.

Telling someone that they're going to be a father sounded more like in-person news to Pam, but she knew he was going to Australia and he had to know before he left. At the very least she could tell him that she called the wedding off. His words after Casino Night still rang in her ears.

"_Don't call me, Pam. Unless it's to tell me you aren't getting married."_

Pam's nervous hands were shaking as she dialed.

She couldn't help but smile.

… … …

Jim was waiting until the absolute last second to board his plane to Australia, cell phone in hand, desperately hoping, praying to anything and everything holy that Pam would call and tell him to come back. She'd tell him the wedding was off and that he was the reason. She'd tell him she loved him just like she had at Casino Night, only now the tears they'd shed would be happy ones, and Pam wouldn't leave him cold and alone right after, with the knowledge that she fully intended to marry someone else.

The final boarding call sounded and Jim slowly made his way to the plane, resigned to the fact that by the time he got back Pam would be someone else's wife; she would never, ever be his. The thought filled him with a surprising burst of anger that made him quicken his pace. He didn't want to be anywhere else but on that plane, far away from all things Pam. He found his seat, shoved his carry-on bag into the overhead bin and stowed his ever-present brown messenger bag under the seat in front of him. The pilot announced they'd taxi briefly and be on their way as soon as everyone was seated with their seatbelts securely fastened. The flight attendants gave their safety presentation as the low rumble of the engines vibrated his seat.

The rumble grew steadily into a roar and the front wheels of the plane lifted off the ground. Jim felt a different kind of vibration from his pocket and remembered that he hadn't turned off his phone. His breath caught in his throat when he saw whose name showed up on his caller ID.

Incoming call from Pam Beesly.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note! Wow, guys. Just…wow. Forty reviews for two chapters? You're spoiling me! Thank you so much for your words of encouragement. I couldn't quite write what went down on Casino Night, but I promise you'll know all of that someday. Until then, here's the morning after.

Six Weeks

Chapter Three

As she waited for Jim to pick up, Pam remembered the last time she'd told him she loved him. It wasn't a happy memory and it most certainly didn't help to calm her nerves, but that didn't stop her from replaying it in her mind. It was, beyond doubt, the most painful day of her life. She didn't doubt that Jim would say the same for himself.

_Pam had woken up in the very early hours of the morning after Casino Night. The light was blue and soft as it seeped through gauzy curtains and into Jim's bedroom. Jim had looked so peaceful, the blue glow perfectly illuminating his sleeping face. Pam hadn't noticed until then just how long and soft his eyelashes were, splayed across his cheeks. Pam had sketched the image from memory nearly every day since. Every part of Jim was soft and warm and inviting, and Pam snuggled deeper into the arms that had been wrapped around her all night, breathing in his scent, pretending that after she got out of his bed she wouldn't go home to Roy. _

_The action brought her face closer to his, and Pam couldn't resist. She cupped his cheek in her hand and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Overwhelmed by her feelings, Pam whispered words to his sleeping form that she knew he longed to hear while he was awake. Her eyes welled with tears as she spoke, realizing the truth in what she said._

"_I am so in love with you, Jim Halpert," she whispered sadly. She thought of Roy and of her wedding and added, "I am so sorry."_

_Jim's eyes flew open. Pam jumped away like she'd been burned, scrambling out of bed to find her clothes. It was the fastest Pam had ever moved. She'd already found and put on her bra and underwear by the time Jim got up, haphazardly wrapping a sheet around his waist. By the time he found words, Pam had her dress on and was looking for her shoes in the hallway._

"_Pam, wait! Please!"_

_He'd caught up with her in the living room. She was sitting on the sofa, struggling with the straps of her shoes. She looked up at him for a split-second and then back down, her face flushed. He looked like an Adonis._

"_Pam, come on. We need to talk about this."_

_Pam stood and met his eyes. There was panic written all over her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again, shaking her head. _

"_Pam. I've been offered a promotion in Stamford, and whether I take it or not depends on what you say next. Do you understand?"_

_She nodded almost imperceptibly. _

"_After everything that happened last night and this morning, now that we know how we feel about each other, are you still going to marry Roy?"_

_She nodded again, slowly, as if the action pained her. Their hearts broke at that moment, so clean and hard that Pam was surprised it wasn't audible. Jim discreetly wiped a tear off of his cheek._

"_I'll, uh, I'll call you a cab, then."_

_The cab arrived fifteen silent minutes later. Jim walked Pam to his door, but his hand on her arm stopped her from opening it._

"_I guess this… is goodbye, Pam. I'll be coming iin early on Monday to get my things, and I'd appreciate it if you, uhm, weren't there. Have…have a nice life, okay? Be happy. All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy."_

_Pam started crying loud, painful sobs. Jim couldn't help but gather her up in his arms, even though it pained him further. When she got them under control, she spoke, their tear-filled eyes meeting._

"_We're still friends, aren't we?"_

_Jim shook his head. "Not anymore, Pam. I think it would be best if we didn't talk for a while, so, uhm," Jim swallowed hard, as if what he said next would be the most difficult thing he'd ever say. "Don't call me, Beesly. Unless it's to tell me you aren't getting married."_

_She nodded and made her way to the cab. She put up a hand to wave as it drove away. She'd intentionally showed up at the office ten minutes late on Monday morning and, as he'd said, Jim's desk was completely empty._

_He was gone._

Frankly, she wouldn't blame him if he didn't pick up.

… … …

Incoming call from Pam Beesly.

He stared at his phone in disbelief, letting it ring once before hastily answering it. _To hell with airline safety,_ he thought. This call could only mean one thing.

"Pam?"

"Jim, hey." He could barely hear anything over the roar of the engines. Before too long, he'd be too high up to get a signal.

"You know what I want to hear, Beesly."

"Hello? Jim, where are you? I can barely hear you."

"I'm in a plane," he said, looking around for flight attendants. "Look, I have a layover in Los Angeles; I'll call you back, okay?"

"Okay," she practically yelled. "Jim?"

"Yeah?" He could barely hear her.

Pam said something, but it was garbled beyond recognition.

"What? Pam, I'm losing you. Pam? Pam!"

Pam spoke again, but he couldn't make it out. He felt the plane gaining altitude, and lost his signal completely. Jim had planned to sleep on this flight, but now there was little hope of that. He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out his iPod. He scrolled through all of his music, settling on Travis. He hadn't been able to listen to them in months, but was all of a sudden really in the mood to hear them. He leaned his chair back and closed his eyes, but Jim's brain would not turn off.

He kept thinking of Pam, and all the possible things she could have been saying as his phone cut out.

It would be a long six hours to Los Angeles.

… … …

Pam paced in her motel room, waiting anxiously for Jim's call. She figured she had at least four hours before his plane landed in Los Angeles, but Pam couldn't shake the nervous, excited energy that had taken over her body. She'd already done everything she could do in her room, and it was only nine thirty.

She'd completely filled out her apartment lease, and even that had only taken her ten minutes. It was actually more of a townhouse, which Pam thought made it feel more like a home than an apartment. When she'd taken a tour earlier that day, she found herself making a mental list of all the things she liked about it that Roy would've hated.

The outside walls were red brick, and Roy had despised anything that bright. Pam thought it made it the place look more welcoming. The two bedrooms were upstairs, and the fact that it had a second floor at all would have resulted in a veto. Roy also would have said it was too expensive, but only because it would've cut into his beer and nacho budget. Pam had sorted out her own budget at work that day, and was amazed by how much of her paycheck went directly to Roy. Pam found that she not only made enough money for the apartment, but also for a new car if she wanted one.

Pam's favorite part of the apartment, hands down, was the small balcony off of the master bedroom. It wasn't much, but it was big enough for a flower box and two lawn chairs, and that's all Pam wanted. Mostly, though, Pam liked it because it made her feel like she had accomplished a small part of her dream of having a house with a terrace. A balcony was essentially a miniature terrace, right?

Pam scanned the room again, looking for something to do. She got up to find her keys and go for a drive when a small, black piece of paper sticking out of her purse caught her eye. The words "Baby Beesly" were printed in the corner.

Pam stared at her sonogram photo until sleep finally claimed her.

… … …

Jim was in hell.

His iPod died halfway to Los Angeles, at the exact moment the elderly woman sleeping in the seat next to him started to snore. He'd bought the airplane headphones so he could watch the in-flight movie, which turned out to be _Legally Blonde 2: Red, White, and Blonde._ And Jim couldn't even pay attention to that, because all he could think about was Pam and why she'd called him and what she'd said as the static drowned out her voice. On top of that, it was nearly 2:30 in the morning in Stamford and Jim had yet to sleep. It was giving him a headache.

As if he willed it to, the fasten seatbelts sign lit up with a "ding!" as the plane began its descent into Los Angeles. Jim breathed a sigh of relief, not at all disappointed that he wouldn't get to see the end of the movie.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: You guys are amazing! Seriously, your reviews make me even more excited to update this story. And the more reviews I get, the more excited I get, and the faster this story gets written. Here, ladies and gentlemen, is the long-awaited phone call.

Six Weeks

Chapter Four

Jim was getting restless.

The plane had landed safely in Los Angeles, but had spent the last thirty minutes taxiing the runway in search of its gate. In the meantime, the plane had passed a total of fourteen vacant gates on its left side alone. Jim knew this because he had a window seat, and he counted.

It was close to 4:00 in the morning Scranton time when the plane finally came to a complete stop, waited for another plane to leave, and pulled into the newly vacant gate. Jim was almost certain that Dwight was piloting this plane, or at the very least had found his way into the cockpit. The pilot announced their arrival, and nearly every passenger stood to get their bags out of the over head bin at once. Jim waited, staying seated to avoid what he called the "bag avalanche." When the initial rush had gone, Jim got up, grabbed his bags, and got the hell off that plane.

He had a phone call to make.

… … …

Pam couldn't sleep. She'd passed out from sheer exhaustion around midnight, but couldn't stay asleep for fear she'd miss Jim's call. She had, in the course of her sleeplessness, developed a new appreciation for infomercials. Pam was about to order a Magic Bullet miracle blender when the phone rang in her hand. _Jim_. She answered it before the first ring was over.

"Hey," she answered, wincing at how perky and awake she sounded.

"Damn, Beesly. It didn't even ring." Jim's voice was smooth and familiar in her ear, easing some of her tension. "You weren't waiting up for me, were you?"

"What? No, no. I wasn't," she assured him.

Jim was not convinced. "Pam," he urged, calling her on the lie.

"Fine, fine. I've been up all night watching infomercials, and I got all caught up in one and was just about to order a Magic Bullet miracle blender when you called. Okay?"

His laughter was the best thing she'd ever heard. "Wow, Beesly. I'd sleep on that decision if I were you. That sounds like something Dwight would buy."

"It does not! It's just like a regular blender, but it's faster and more efficient and- Oh. Oh my god."

Jim was roaring with laughter and she joined him, marveling at just how easy it was for them to slip back into their usual banter, as if they hadn't just gone over a month without speaking. As if Pam hadn't broken his heart. Jim had apparently had the same thought, because his laughing stopped when hers did. He cleared his throat.

"So… Are we just breaking the rules or do you have some good news for me?"

Pam was suddenly overwhelmed with nervousness. Nervousness and nausea.

"Hey Jim, can you hold on just one second?"

Before he could respond, Pam threw her phone down on the bed and stood up to run to the bathroom, but only made it as far as the bedside trashcan. She got a drink of water from the sink and made her way back to the bed, picking up the phone again.

"Hey, sorry about that."

"Yeah, me too. That sounded…well I can't lie to you Pam, it sounded absolutely disgusting."

"Oh, it was, I assure you. Sorry you had to hear that; I'm just so nervous."

He sounded offended. "I make you nervous to the point of puking. You know, Beesly, I think that's what every guy wants to hear during a conversation with an attractive woman. Really. My self esteem just went through the roof."

She laughed softly.

"Really Pam, what's up?" he asked gently. "I've got a plane to catch in…thirty minutes."

"Well, when do you come back? I'd really rather tell you in person."

"Three weeks, Pam. That's too long. Whatever it is, I need you to tell me now."

"Okay." She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to calm her racing pulse. "Well, for starters, I'm not getting married tomorrow."

"Well, that is definitely a start. Did you postpone?"

"Yeah, indefinitely. I left Roy, Jim. I couldn't marry him."

Jim couldn't hide the smile in his voice. "And why's that?"

"See, this is where it would be easier to tell in person. It involves Dwight."

"You left Roy for Dwight? Is that why you wanted the Magic Bullet miracle blender?"

"Gross! No, no" she laughed. Jim could always make her laugh, no matter what mood she was in. It was almost enough to ease her nerves. "Would you like me to start from the beginning?"

"Well I _do_ love storytime."

… … …

"Wait, Beesly. Wait," He said through laughter. "You're telling me that Dwight has a pregnancy test in his desk at all times?"

"Tests! Plural! He keeps two, for _accuracy purposes_, because it's hard to hit such a small target. And that isn't even the best part! He says that First Response pregnancy tests were not only the fastest _on average_, but they'd also passed the Dwight Schrute five point pregnancy test durability test."

"You're kidding me."

"Dwight has been taking pregnancy tests, Jim! And he's _timing them_."

"Oh, Beesly, that is the least of our concerns. Why would a pregnancy test need to be durable? What five points? Does a pregnancy test even _have_ five points?"

"I have no idea, but I'm more than a little concerned for Dwight."

Jim felt her extended pause start to turn into a lull in conversation, but he had to keep her talking. Otherwise, she'd never say what he needed to hear.

"Yeah, me too. Come on, Beesly," he urged. He was getting pretty nervous himself about where Pam was going with this, but he kept his voice calm. His free hand, however, was bouncing rapidly on the airport bench. "I know that's not the end of the story."

"Okay, well, I thought it was just a stomach bug. I'd take the test to humor Dwight, you know, whatever." She fibbed a little on that part, but he'd already heard her puke. Telling him about how she sat in the ladies' room crying and vomiting would not do her any good imagewise. "So I take the test from Dwight and he _doesn't leave the ladies' room_. I actually had to kick him out so I could pee on a stick in peace." _So much for him ever finding you attractive again_, Pam thought.

"Now that's a nice mental picture."

"Suck it, Halpert," she laughed. While Jim loved the sound of her laughter, laughing wasn't talking, and he really wanted to hear where she was going with this. His palms were sweating, and his right leg would not stop bouncing.

"Pam, focus! I'm on pins and needles, here."

"It was positive. I'm pregnant."

While Jim had suspected that this was where the conversation was heading, her admission still knocked the wind out of him.

"Wow. Did...did you go to the doctor?"

"Yeah, I'm about six weeks along. I have a sonogram photo, but it looks more like a bean than a baby."

"Is it-" She knew what he was going to ask and spared him the awkward question. Jim was thankful for her interruption. He had no idea how to ask if it was his without sounding like a complete asshole.

"Yeah, Jim, it is. Roy and I hadn't, you know, in about three months."

Jim was quiet for a minute, processing. He was going to be a father. He and Pam were going to have a baby. He closed his eyes to stop the airport from spinning. A few deep breaths calmed him down enough to joke. It would really sink in later.

"So, you're pregnant with our Dunder-Mifflin Casino Night lovechild. That's essentially what you're trying to tell me."

"Yes, exactly." Pam paused, as if choosing her next words carefully. "That's not the only reason I left him, though."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. I left Roy because I don't love him, and he doesn't love me either. I asked him what my favorite yogurt flavor was, and do you know what he said, Jim? Vanilla." Jim scoffed.

"He couldn't even tell me my birthday."

"Wow." Jim was speechless. He'd known that Roy was an inattentive douchebag, but this took it to a whole new height. "Ten years and he didn't even know your birthday?"

"Nope. And then… he asked if there was someone else, and I didn't want to lie to him. I told him there had been, but that he'd left, and of course he knew it was you. He's always been so jealous of you. Then he asked me if I love you, asked if we'd had sex. I'd never seen him so angry. Sure, Roy and I had our fights, but I'd never been truly afraid of Roy before until yesterday."

She paused, and Jim knew there was more that she wasn't telling him. "What happened?"

"Well, I was honest with him. When I said yes, I do love you, he threw my engagement ring. And that wasn't a big deal, really. We'd thrown things before. But when he asked if you and I had- you know, and I told him we had, well…" she trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence out loud.

"Well what, Pam?" he asked. His voice was gravelly with anger. "Did he hit you?"

"Yeah. He did."

"I'll kill him." The words came out as a knee-jerk reaction, but Jim meant them. He couldn't remember ever feeling this angry. He'd only been in one fight before, but he'd laid that guy out pretty well. Jim definitely had a longer reach than Roy did, but Roy was bulkier than he was. That also meant he'd be slower. "If you have bruises I swear to god-"

"Easy there, Halpert. It's okay."

"What? Pam, it is definitely not okay."

"It's over now. I moved out. As a matter of fact, I'm dropping off my lease paperwork for my new place on the way to the office."

"And you'll never see him again?"

"Not if I can help it."

The alarm clock on the nightstand began to beep, and Pam quickly quieted it. It was already seven in the morning; she and Jim had been talking for nearly three hours.

"Hey, Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," she blurted. "And it's okay if you don't say it back. I just want you to hear it."

Jim grinned. He opened his mouth to respond, but she spoke first.

"Also I think you missed your flight."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: A writer is like a ship. The word 'ship' is hidden inside the word 'authorship'. And that authorship wouldn't be able to function without its engine room, which is you, the reviewers (I trust you all have seen 'Titanic' so you know how the engine room works, though I am aware I may be thinking of 'The Hunt for Red October'). So keep shoveling your words, which are the coal, into that review box furnace. The more coal in the furnace, the faster the ship goes. It's a terrible simile, I know, but I just rewatched Booze Cruise and couldn't resist. Also, seventy reviews for four chapters! You guys are awesome! Hope you enjoy this one just as much. I tried to make it longer for you this time :)

Six Weeks

Chapter Five

Pam had been in the office for less than two hours, and she was already completely exhausted. She'd called or emailed all of the wedding guests to inform them of the cancellation, and quickly realized she should have waited until the end of the day rather than just getting it over with at the beginning. Kelly had been at her desk within seconds of receiving the email, erupting with questions that Pam didn't want to answer just yet.

"Oh my GOD, Pam! You and Roy were like, **so cute** together. I totally thought you were like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, but I guess you were more like Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston. You know, cute together but **totally** wrong for each other. Wait! Who called it off, you or Roy? Because you did then **you'd **be Brad and you are **so **not a guy. Or **maybe** you're like Katie Holmes and Roy was your Chris Klein or whatever his name is, in which case you are totally gonna **upgrade**!"

Pam opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find words. She took a sip of her tea and watched as Kelly had another "lightbulb" moment, preparing herself for the word avalanche that was about to come from Kelly's mouth.

"OH MY GOD! Does Jim know? He was **totally** crazy about you before he left, **and** he's way hotter than Roy. He could be your Tom Cruise! Oh my god, Pam! Are you okay?"

At the mention of Jim's name Pam coughed, sending her tea down the wrong pipe. Dwight sprang into action, knocking his chair over in his hurry to reception.

"MOVE, PEOPLE!" he yelled, pushing Kelly out of the way. "PREGNANT LADY IN DANGER!"

The entire office went deafeningly silent. Even Michael was speechless as he stood in the doorway of his office. Pam shut her eyes tightly, her face tense. This was her last nerve, and Dwight was on it. She could hear Dwight moving toward her, and put her hand out.

"Don't touch me, Dwight."

"Pam, you could be choking," he said. "That could be serious in your," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "delicate condition."

"I'm not choking, Dwight, and thanks." She took a deep breath. "I am going to count backwards from ten before I open my eyes and when I do I want you to have moved to the back."

"Only Michael can make me move, Pam."

"Ten."

"Michael! Tell Pam she's not the boss of me!"

"Nine."

"Do what the scary lady says, Dwight," Michael said, his voice hushed.

"Eight."

"But I'm the Assistant Regional Manager! I should be close to you!"

"To the. Seven."

"Frankly, Dwight, I'm afraid of what will happen to you if you don't. And to me if I don't make you. So do it."

"Six."

"Fine, but I'm doing it because _you_ told me to, not for Suzy Hormones over there."

"Five."

"No, you _are_ doing it for Suzy Hormones, because she is _scary_."

Pam heard the sound of bobblehead on cardboard and opened her eyes. Dwight was somberly packing his things, and Kelly had yet to remove her jaw from the floor. Everyone was staring at her with the exception of Michael, who was afraid to make eye contact, and Toby, who had just walked in. He took in everybody's shocked faces, fearing another Michael Scott HR nightmare had occurred just prior to his entrance.

"What did you do, Michael?"

Michael just turned his head even more in the opposite direction, mumbling something under his breath. Toby turned to the person everybody seemed to be staring at.

"Pam, can you tell me what's going on?"

Pam nodded, calm again. "Sure. I'll meet you in Michael's office in five minutes. Michael, now?"

Michael turned on his heel and walked briskly into his office, head down. Pam followed. She felt like she should curtsey after that performance but resisted the urge, instead just closing the door behind her and taking a seat. Michael sat after she did, shuffling papers on his desk in an effort to not make eye contact.

"Michael?" At the sound of his name, Michael looked up. He looked more like a deer caught in the headlights than the regional manager of a mid-size failing paper company.

"Yes, Pam. Pamela. Pamela Beesly, what can I do for you?"

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Michael. I'm only mad at Dwight."

"Dwight is an idiot," he muttered. "And I'm not afraid of you, Pam, I am afraid of your craaaaazy pregnant lady hormones."

"I was mean to Dwight," she said, as if she were talking to a child. "And I'm sorry you were involved. I was just angry at Dwight. None of that was directed at you."

Pam wondered what kind of parents Michael had, and what they'd done to make him so afraid of anger and rejection. She'd heard him crying all the way from reception after phone calls with Jan and Carol before, and Dwight would always rush in to console him. And then it clicked: Michael kept Dwight around because no matter what, Dwight would never reject him or be angry with him. Thankfully, Toby walked in before Pam's thoughts could get any creepier. Michael's face immediately contorted in disgust.

"Jeez, Toby, don't you knock?"

Toby ignored him and just sat down, resting a legal pad on his knee. He clicked his pen and prepared for the worst.

"So, who can tell me what's going on here?"

"I guess I will," Pam started.

"Okay." Toby angled his body toward Pam. "You're comfortable talking about it in front of Michael?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Michael is not actually the issue here."

Toby looked genuinely surprised.

"Okay, I guess I'll come right out and say it. I'm six weeks pregnant."

Toby looked even more surprised.

"Until just before you walked in, Toby, Dwight was the only person who knew, other than myself and the baby's father. Dwight just told the entire office."

"You told _Dwight_ before you told _me_?" Michael asked, offended. "I thought we were friends, Pam."

"I didn't _tell_ Dwight anything. He looked up my symptoms on WebMD and figured it out for himself."

Michael looked relieved, then confused. Pam fielded the question she knew he was about to awkwardly ask.

"I called off the wedding because the baby isn't Roy's."

Michael and Toby made the same shocked face.

"I wasn't planning on sharing the baby news with anyone until I'm farther along, but I guess there's nothing I can really do about it now. I just feel like I've been outed, and I know everybody's going to assume things now."

"That's perfectly understandable," Toby assured her. "But unfortunately, there's nothing we can really do now except damage control."

Pam nodded in response.

"In my experience with these situations," Toby continued, "the only thing that can stop a rumor is the truth."

Pam shook her head. "I know," she said. "But I'm not ready to share it yet."

Their meeting concluded, Toby and Pam exited Michael's office and went back to their desks. Thirty minutes later, Pam ventured back to Toby's cubicle.

"Hey, Toby?"

"Hey Pam," he greeted. He looked like he'd been expecting her.

"I need to change my emergency contact."

Toby opened his file cabinet and found her manila folder, pulling it out. He whited out Roy's name and number and blew the paper dry.

"Alright, and who are you changing it to?"

"Jim Halpert."

Toby dropped the small jar of white-out on his pants, staining them. He'd had enough surprises for one day.

… … …

Pam stopped by Dwight's new desk on her way back to reception. Dwight looked sadder than she'd ever seen him, thumping his bobblehead likeness and watching it bounce, over and over. Every so often he'd look to his right, and Pam could tell he expected to see Michael there. She felt a pang of sympathy, and tapped on his desk with her fingernails to get him to look up at her. When he did, he looked utterly lost. She noticed Angela staring at her as well with her cold, judgmental eyes.

"Say you're sorry," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"Say you're sorry, and I'll let you have your desk back."

Dwight looked at her warily. "What's the catch?"

"The catch is I can't lift anything over forty pounds and I'm moving into a new apartment. I also just ordered an apartment full of furniture from Ikea, and it's going to need assembling."

"When?"

"It's being delivered today after work. Can you do it?"

Dwight and Angela exchanged looks. "I kind of have plans tonight-"

She cut him off. "You are the assistant regional manager, Dwight. You should be in the desk closest to Michael. It's your _job_. And right now, Ryan is closer to Michael than you are. Do you want your desk back or not?"

… … …

True to his word, Dwight showed up at exactly 5:15pm. He wore a ridiculous handyman getup, complete with a long-sleeved plaid flannel shirt and tool belt. He carried a shiny red toolbox in one hand and a wrench in the other. A white hard hat with a light on the front sat atop his head. Pam simply laughed and shook her head, allowing him to get to work.

It was nine o'clock at night when Jim called her, but that didn't stop her from answering the phone "Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam."

"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Jim. Are you still at work, Beesly?"

"No, I'm at home." It felt so weird calling her new place 'home'. "I guess I'm not used to it yet. Also Dwight is here, so it feels like work."

"Why is Dwight there?"

"He is assembling my new furniture."

"Again, why?"

"He has to earn his desk back."

"Oh, this sounds like a good story."

"It is."

"Well, do tell."

"I sent out emails letting everyone know about the wedding first thing in the morning, which was a pretty bad idea because Kelly was at my desk for_ever_, comparing Roy and I to every failed celebrity couple she could think of. So I was drinking my tea and waiting it out, when it goes down the wrong pipe. I coughed _once_, and Dwight was up out of his desk knocking things over trying to get to me, yelling 'Everybody move! Pregnant lady in danger!'"

"That is so…Dwight. Wow. So what'd you do?"

"I kind of lost it, which is how I learned that Michael is afraid of pregnant women and will do whatever they say. I made Dwight move to the back with Kelly, and now I'm making him assemble all of my furniture to get his old desk back. He was supposed to be finished about ten minutes ago."

"You're a cruel woman, Beesly."

"Whatever, you would've done the same thing!"

"Nope. I would've made him stay back there."

"Well, your furniture is probably already assembled."

"Touché," he ceded. "Hey, I don't have your fancy new address."

"My new address is 1019 Driftwood Lane, number 121. And it won't be fancy until _Dwight finishes my furniture!"_ She said the last part loudly, so Dwight could hear.

"Wow, Pam. You are a slave driver."

"What can I say? Fancy New Beesly shows no mercy."

Jim laughed. Pam loved making him laugh. If all else failed, they'd at least have that laughter. Laughter and a baby. Pam put her hand on her abdomen, a small smile gracing her lips.

"Have I told you lately that I am so glad I impregnated you?"

Pam's eyebrows wrinkled. "You are?"

"Well, sure. I mean, we didn't plan it or anything, but if it was going to be anyone, I'm glad it was you. I wouldn't rather be permanently and irrevocably tied to anyone else for the rest of my life. Plus, I totally wanted to have a kid before I turned thirty, so this works out."

"Thanks…I think?"

"Sorry; it was supposed to be a compliment, I swear."

"Jim Halpert, always the charmer."

"I've been on a plane all day, give a guy a break."

"Fine, fine. Just this once."

"You should make Dwight leave."

"Why? Jealous?"

"Insanely so," he replied. "Like, Othello jealous."

"Uh-oh."

"But seriously, Pam. It's getting late and if you're half as tired as I am you're in serious need of some rest. You're sleeping for two, miss."

"Alright, you've got me there. I'll kick him out."

"Good. Get some sleep, Beesly."

"Goodnight, Jim."

She closed her phone and slipped it into her pocket. She walked into the livingroom and found Dwight asleep on her brand new royal blue couch. She touched his shoulder with two fingers to wake him, and Dwight jolted upright with a start.

"Isssh satisfactory?" he slurred.

"Yes, Dwight. The furniture all looks great. Thank you."

"Can I have my desk back?"

"Yes, Dwight," she responded, and Dwight sighed in relief. "Go home, Dwight."

"Would you like me to stay and protect you?"

"That won't be necessary."

He handed her a can of mace. "Then take this. A woman in your condition should not go unprotected."

"Thanks, Dwight."

"No thanks needed, Pamela. Good Night."

"'Night, Dwight."

She closed the door behind him, and then watched through her window to make sure that he did, in fact, drive away. Pam wouldn't put it past Dwight to sleep in his car in front of her townhouse. She was about to head up to her room to get some sleep when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

"I made him leave, Jim. You don't have to check up on me."

"I know that, but I just wanted you to do something for me. It'll be quick, I promise."

"What's that?"

"I would really appreciate it if you'd open your door."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Over a hundred reviews for five chapters! My goodness! You guys are seriously the best ever, spoiling me with your words. You keep spoiling me and I'll keep writing. Here is chapter six. It's not my favorite so far and it's a little short, but I made it pretty fluffy. Here's the reunion, I hope you all like it!

Six Weeks

Chapter Six

"_I'd really appreciate it if you'd open your door."_

"For you, Jim? Anything."

Pam opened her door as he'd asked, and was greeted by the sight of… her empty front porch. She flicked the porch light on and stepped out onto her stoop, doing a quick scan of her street, not seeing anything too out of the ordinary. She was about to go back inside when she saw it. Jim's car was parked on the street in front of the apartment next to hers, but Jim wasn't in it. Pam grinned wickedly.

This would be fun.

"If you don't mind my asking, what was the goal of this exercise?" she asked, trying to keep the mischief out of her voice. Pam made sure her front door was unlocked, and closed it gently behind her. She crept down her steps, making her way over to him as silently as she could.

Jim sighed. "If you'd open your door, you'd find out."

"Jim, my door _is_ open. There's nothing there."

"Wait, what? What's the number again?"

"One twenty-one."

She heard Jim swear under his breath and fought back a giggle. She walked stealthily up the steps behind him, and then closed her phone with a loud 'click'.

"I can walk you there, if you'd like."

Jim couldn't keep the swearing under his breath as he jumped in surprise, whirling around to see Pam, who was nearly doubled over in laughter. He ran a hand through his messy hair, willing his heart rate to slow. She'd gotten him good.

"Hey, Pam."

She was grinning like a Cheshire cat, and Jim was her canary. "Hey, Jim."

"So, just so we're clear," he started. "Did I suck the romance out of the moment when I went to the wrong house, or did you do it just now?"

"Actually, you sucked the romance out of it both times. Once when you went to the wrong house, and then you completely drained it when you screamed like a girl." Pam nodded matter-of-factly, a slight smile on her face.

"Oh, come on. There has to be at least a little bit left, otherwise I have to drive all the way back to the airport and-"

"Shut it, Halpert," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt his arms close around her waist, holding her close to him firmly but gently, as if he thought she'd break. And even though he'd spent all day on a plane, even though he'd been away from her for over a month, he still smelled like the Jim she remembered. As their lips finally, tentatively met, they both had the same thought.

_Feels like coming home_.

It didn't take long before the kisses turned from tentative and sweet to a hungry, desperate need to get closer. Pam tangled her hands in his hair and his palms flattened against her back, bringing her as close to him as he could, as if he was subconsciously afraid she'd run away. He stepped forward backing her into the wall behind her, a knee edging its way between her legs, a doorbell pressing against her back.

The sound jarred them from their actions, their eyes meeting in panic. They heard a shuffling from inside the apartment.

"Run!" Pam whisper-shouted, darting under his arm and across the small lawn. Jim followed close behind.

They ran inside Pam's apartment, collapsing on her new rug in a fit of giggles. When the laughter subsided, they turned toward each other on their sides, smiling. Pam spoke first.

"Hey."

"Hey," Jim replied. "So…what now?"

"I don't know. As far as this goes," Pam pointed at her stomach, "we wait seven months. But as far as _this_ goes," she moved her hand between them, "I think we should talk about it in the morning." She punctuated her sentence with a yawn.

Jim yawned as well. "I'm with you on that one. Do you have blankets and stuff for the couch?"

"You want to sleep on the couch?"

Jim stood, stretching. "Well, no, but-"

"You've been on a plane all day; you're not sleeping on the couch. Also, it's my first night in my new bedroom. I don't want to sleep by myself." She rose to her feet as well, taking his hand in hers and pulling him towards the stairs.

"Something tells me I'm not going to be winning any arguments with you over the next seven months."

Pam turned to look at him, pretending to think for a second before shaking her head. "Hmm, probably not."

"Then by all means, Miss Beesly, lead the way."

… … …

Jim woke up on the morning of June 10th in Pam's bed. If you'd asked him two months ago where he thought he'd be at that moment, he would have said that he honestly didn't know. Somewhere in Australia, probably. Maybe next to a stranger, hung over after a long night of drinking her memory away. He certainly didn't see himself waking up in Pam Beesly's bed on the morning of what was supposed to be her wedding day.

And if he had, he wouldn't have seen himself waking up alone. Pam's side of the bed was empty and neatly made. He felt cold fingers of fear begin to touch his heart, but before he could worry about where she'd gone or who she'd married, he heard her voice.

"Hey there, sleepyhead."

She was curled up on a chair across from the bed, a sketchpad in her lap and a pencil in her hand.

"Hey," he said groggily, voice hoarse with sleep.

"Don't move."

She was concentrating hard, which Jim thought was adorable. Her bottom lip was between her teeth, and her eyebrows were furrowed in thought. She'd put her hair up in a messy ponytail, and the way the sunlight hit her made the errant curls look more like a halo. He wanted to kiss her.

"Can I move now?"

"In a sec. I'm almost done." She made a few more lines with her pencil, and then closed her sketchbook. "There. Move all you want."

Jim sat up and stretched his arms above his head, then flopped back down on the bed.

"Beesly, this just might be the most comfortable bed in the world."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. You should come check it out."

"Okay, but that line was terrible."

"But it's working, is it not?"

Pam laughed as she lay down in bed next to him, and Jim turned on his side to look at her, propping himself up on his elbow. His other hand settled lightly on her stomach. He knew she wouldn't start showing for a while, but Jim could swear he felt a little swell there. Before Jim knew what he was doing, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on that spot, and another on her lips. Pulling back, he met her eyes.

"I love you, Pam," he said, his voice husky with feeling. "I don't care about what happened before, or who was wrong or hurt or any of that. I love you."

She reached up to touch his face gently, and they smiled despite the tears welling in their eyes. "I love you too, Jim."

"Then that's all that matters."

They knew they had more things to discuss than that. Things like where they'd live and if they'd get married, what was in store for them over the coming months, but all of those things could wait. They had love, and come hell or high water, they would make it work.

… … …

They stayed in bed talking until their stomachs were growling louder than their voices; at which point Jim insisted they get up and make some breakfast. He seemed to enjoy pointing out whenever Pam was doing something "for two," which Pam thought was adorable. He actually seemed excited by it, and that made Pam a little bit giddy as well.

They were sitting at her new dining room table eating pancakes and bacon when Jim noticed the little black square of paper on her refrigerator. _Baby Beesly._ He got up and removed it from its magnet, analyzing the picture of their baby.

Jim said something, but it was unintelligible through his mouthful of pancakes.

"What?"

He swallowed. "I see what you mean," he said clearly.

"About what?"

"It does look more like a bean than a baby. There's one problem, though."

"Really?" she asked. Jim nodded. "What is it?"

"Yeah, up here in the corner." He pointed at the white printed letters. "It says Baby _Beesly, _but this Bean is clearly a Halpert."

Pam laughed. "So we're calling it a Bean now?"

Jim nodded. "Until it starts looking more like a baby, yes."

"Well," she said, a little nervous though she had no idea why. "I have another sonogram in two weeks, if you'd like to go with me and monitor progress. It'll probably still look like a bean, but you'll get to hear the heartbeat."

He smiled and planted a kiss on top of her head.

"Beesly, I would love nothing more."

… … …


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note! Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up, guys. It's fast approaching finals week, and on top of studying and papers due I also didn't know where the hell I was taking this story. But hey! Here's the next chapter. I hope you all like it, and if you do, keep reviewing! Reviews are like crack to me, or they would be if I did crack. Pretend I do crack. Also, I'm thinking of a title change. Thoughts?

Six Weeks

Chapter Seven

Pam was _not_ having a good day.

It had started first thing in the morning. She was running late because none of her skirts would zip up all the way, and was entirely convinced that it meant she was showing. Pam had torn apart her closet looking for something that would fit, finding a pair of khaki pants she'd forgotten she even owned and a black sweater to hide the soft swell of her stomach. She threw them on and rushed out the door, realizing halfway to the office that she left her lunch in her refrigerator at home. She'd also forgotten to fix her hair, leaving it down and curly around her shoulders.

She'd arrived at the office three minutes late, which did not go unnoticed by Dwight. Dwight had also taken the liberty of removing all of the cleaning supplies and scissors from Pam's desk, explaining that it was for the safety of Pam and of her fetus. He had somehow managed to use the word "gestation" three times in the process, the sound of which made Pam feel nauseated. She'd threatened his desk, and he'd given her a pair of purple-handled safety scissors in compromise.

The office had spent the next few hours in a state of quiet productivity. She and Jim had exchanged emails for the better part of it, and Pam's mood showed signs of improving. After all, she'd see Jim in a matter of hours. How could she not be at least a little bit happy?

But the relative peace of the office had been destroyed after lunch, when Michael came in carrying a large piece of white butcher paper. He taped it up behind her desk, making Pam stand sideways in front of it while he traced her stomach. He'd wanted to trace her "boobs" as well, because "those funbags are gonna get _huge_," but Pam had drawn the line. They would trace her belly once a month to watch her grow. Pam actually thought it was a pretty cute idea until Michael spoke again.

"Wow, Pam! You're thicker already!"

Compared to the things Michael usually said, it was pretty tame. And had it been any other day, Pam would have chalked it up to Michael's innate tactlessness and let it roll off her shoulders. But Pam had spent thirty minutes trying to zip her skirts that morning, and was more than a little sensitive about her appearance. That, combined with Pam's hormones, was enough to make her bottom lip begin to quiver. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and Michael was immediately uncomfortable.

"And there you go…with your hormones," he mumbled.

Kelly piped up on Pam's behalf from her position perched on Ryan's desk. "You totally just called her fat, Michael. That is so not cool."

"I did not call her _fat_," Michael attempted to clarify. "I said she was _thicker_. There is a difference. Pam is crying because of her pregnant hormones."

"So what _does_ 'thicker' mean, Michael?" Pam asked, her composure returning.

"It means that…" Michael started. He got flustered when he realized he was wrong, but refused to admit it. "You know what? It's not important. I will be in my office. If Jan calls, tell her I'm on a sales call and that I am very happy with my girlfriend Carol Stills. And sexually active. If she asks."

Pam nodded curtly, and Michael walked briskly into his office.

It would be a long day.

… … …

Jim tapped his pen idly on the edge of his desk at Dunder-Mifflin Stamford as he willed the clock on the wall to go faster. It was 4:33pm, and Jim had officially run out of things to do. He'd closed an astonishing ten sales that day, cleaned the coffeepot, and moved everything on Andy's desk to the opposite side, making it a mirror image of what it looked like before. He'd emailed Pam about a million times, and prank called her twice. He'd told her it was because he was bored, but really he'd just wanted to hear her voice.

4:37

_God_, this day was going by slowly. It was probably the longest Thursday in the history of Thursdays. Jim hated going to work when he was excited. He always ended up doing most of his work before lunch, spending all afternoon painfully bored, resorting to busywork and childish pranks to keep himself entertained. And speaking of childish pranks, he hadn't called Pam in at least fifteen minutes and was missing her already.

He'd been missing her for a lot longer than fifteen minutes, though. It had been two weeks since he'd seen her last, and he'd started missing her before his car was even out of her driveway. They'd decided it would be better for them if he saved his vacation days for important OB-GYN appointments and for after the baby came, so he'd gone back to Stamford that Sunday after a tearful goodbye. Pam had blamed her tears on her "crazy pregnant lady hormones," but he had no such excuse.

And now, after the longest two weeks of his life, it was finally time to go back to Scranton. Back to Pam, and their Bean. Honestly, Jim was a little nervous. He'd seen the ultrasound photo that Pam had, but this time he'd be there for one. He would hear the baby's heartbeat, see it moving, maybe. It would all be real then. Everything happened so fast that it blurred in his memory, but Jim felt like that would be the time it would all click.

4:45

Jim couldn't take it any longer. He said a quick goodbye to Josh, reminding him he wouldn't be coming in on Friday, and ducked out early.

… … …

Pam was playing her twelfth game of solitaire of the day and counting down the minutes until five o'clock when she heard her cell phone vibrating in her purse. She smiled when she saw Jim's name flashing on the screen, and answered it before it could go to voicemail.

"Hey, stranger. I'm at work, just call me here."

"Actually, I just wanted to leave you a voicemail, if that's okay."

"Okay. Hi, you've reached Pam Beesly. Leave me a message with your name and number and I'll get back to you. How's that?"

"You forgot the beep. Do it over."

"Hey, you've reached Pam's cell phone. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Beep!"

"Hey Pam, it's Jim. I guess you're still at work. I just wanted to say don't eat dinner when you get home, because tonight we are having our second first date. Hope you like grilled cheese. Swaying is dancing, I'll see you at eight. Bye."

Pam couldn't wipe the grin from her face if she tried. It stayed with her for the rest of her time at the office, while she drove home, and even while she cleaned her apartment. As Pam was getting ready, it hit her that she couldn't remember the last time she'd been this excited about a date. Hell, she couldn't remember the last time she'd even been _on_ a date, as sad as that was. Unless she counted her and Jim's first "date," it had been well over a year since she'd been taken out.

She didn't know if it was her pregnant lady hormones or just the newness of being so happy, but Pam wasn't resentful or angry about that. Instead, she was just glad that her first date in years would be with Jim. She had a feeling that this would be her last first date ever. Pam was comfortable with the idea.

The doorbell rang, and Pam felt a little flutter in her stomach. She liked to think that the little flutters were the Bean reminding her of his or her presence, but according to her baby books Pam had another five weeks before she could start to feel any movements. Pam opened the door and saw Jim, looking handsome as ever in a black sweater with an oxford underneath. The sleeves were rolled up around his forearms, and his hands were tucked into his pockets. Pam squealed in glee, a grin spreading across her face as she jumped into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and kissing him enthusiastically. Jim reciprocated, laughing.

"Miss me?" he asked as they separated.

"You wish. I'm just glad you went to the right house."

"_Ouch_. You wound me, Beesly. You really do."

"And yet I think somehow you'll be okay."

"I'll manage," he said. "You look beautiful, by the way."

"I'd hope so. I have a hot date to impress."

"Is that right?"

She nodded in response.

"Well, I don't think you need to impress him."

"Why's that?"

"Because," Jim started, letting his hand rest on her hip as they started walking to his car. "He already knows you put out."

… … …

The doctor didn't even warn Pam before he squeezed a dollop of surprisingly cold gel onto her stomach. But he did smile warmly and say, "Let's see if we can hear a heartbeat, huh?"

Pam squeezed Jim's hand and looked up to meet his eyes. "You ready, Halpert?"

He squeezed back and nodded his assent. The doctor, Dr. O'Dell, who was _not_ in any way actually related to Michael Scott despite their similar mannerisms, moved the wand over the gel on Pam's stomach, spreading it around. A whooshing sound filled the small room, and their Bean appeared on the monitor.

"Is that..?" Jim said quietly, letting his sentence trail off.

Dr. O'Dell nodded. "And a nice, strong heartbeat it is." He shifted his attention to the monitor, trying to get the best possible picture.

"Is it supposed to be so fast?" Pam asked.

"It's perfectly normal," he assured her. "Right where we want it to be."

"How big is it?"

"About the size of a small grape or a bean, give or take a little."

She smiled and craned her neck to look at Jim, whose misty eyes were on the monitor. She squeezed his hand and he looked down at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She smiled up at him tenderly and he returned it, a small tear making its way down his cheek. Dr. O'Dell, aware of the intimacy of the moment, left the room as Pam reached up to wipe Jim's tear away.

"It seems real now, huh?" she said.

Jim nodded.

"Still looks like a bean, though. Or maybe a peanut. Did you see how big its head is?"

Jim laughed a little, but there was something in his eyes that Pam couldn't name. It made her nervous.

"Jim, say something. Please."

Jim pursed his lips, his eyebrows furrowing in thought as if he were trying to decide if he should say what was on his mind. Pam was getting worried, her worst fears invading her thoughts. Was he chickening out? Was he scared? Right as she opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, Jim finally spoke.

"Marry me, Pam."


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: I wasn't planning on getting another chapter out until after finals, but all of your lovely reviews inspired me to keep going (hint, hint). Here's chapter eight. Hope you enjoy it!

Six Weeks

Chapter Eight

_"Marry me, Pam."_

Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it and took out the ring.

He'd picked out the ring at a jewelry store in the Los Angeles airport shortly after he'd gotten off the phone with Pam. He hadn't planned on it, and frankly Jim wasn't sure why there would even _be_ a jewelry store in an airport, but as he'd walked past it on the way to his new gate he saw a ring in the window that just reminded him of Pam. It was simple, understatedly beautiful, which in Jim's mind made it perfectly her. The band was thin platinum, with a sizeable round diamond in the center, and two smaller pear-shaped stones on either side of it. The way they glittered in the light reminded of her smile, and Jim impulsively bought it, not knowing for sure when he was going to propose but absolutely certain that he would when the moment was right.

And right now, after hearing their baby's heartbeat for the first time, the moment was definitely right. Jim got down on one knee, offering the ring up to her and smiling shakily. Pam sat up on the bed, swinging her legs around to face him, her eyes welling with tears. She extended her left hand, and Jim slipped the ring onto her wedding finger with a nervous, trembling hand. It fit perfectly.

"You haven't said yes yet, Beesly," he said, his voice choked up.

She smiled, a tear meandering down her cheek. "Jim Halpert, I wouldn't rather be permanently, irrevocably attached to anyone else for the rest of my life."

… … …

They had their first fight the night after Pam's twenty-week ultrasound.

They had just found out they were having a little girl, which they had both been hoping for, and went out on a dinner date to celebrate. Pam had bought her first maternity dress, an alternative to the larger skirts, slacks, and sweaters she wore to work every day. It was made of periwinkle blue satin, with an empire waist and a tie in the back, and she wore it with a black beaded cardigan. She wouldn't be able to wear it if her belly button popped when she grew, but until then, it made her feel pretty.

Pam had really begun to embrace her baby bump, sometimes showing it off when she woke up exceptionally happy, which was fairly often. Most days, Pam truly loved being pregnant. Those were the days when Michael and Kelly's cooing and fawning over her belly didn't really bother her, nor did the narrow-eyed looks Angela shot in her direction on a regular basis. That morning Michael had traced her stomach again, and the now-moderately sized bump made Pam smile in delight rather than weep at her increased size.

And to top that off, Jim had called to say he had good news, and would be in Scranton by lunchtime, strongly encouraging Pam to leave a little earlier than she'd planned so they could grab some lunch (she'd been craving grilled cheese and pickles) and go to her sonogram appointment together. He'd told her a few days ago that he might not be able to make it, but had apparently had a change of plans. Now they'd get to discover the sex of their Bean together.

It had certainly seemed like quite the promising day, and Pam couldn't stop smiling if she wanted to. She'd nearly squealed with glee when Jim called to tell her that he was waiting outside. She had wasted no time, rushing to put on her coat and heading out the door. As the door closed behind her, she put on her engagement ring.

She and Jim had decided to keep the engagement under wraps at the Scranton office, for Pam's sake. They knew how it would look if Pam was sporting a brand new ring just two weeks after calling off her wedding to Roy. And further still, they knew exactly how the office would react to such news so soon. Every time Pam slid her ring on as she left the office, her heart fluttered in her chest. And lately, when her heart fluttered the Bean would flutter, too. She couldn't wait for Jim to feel it.

As soon as Pam made it to the parking lot, her heart sped up in excitement and the Bean started wiggling around. She saw Jim's car parked next to hers and quickened her pace toward him, motioning for him to get out of the car. He did, and right when Pam reached him, she immediately grabbed his hands and pressed them to her belly.

"Well, hello to you, too."

"Feel that?" she asked, excited. "It feels sort of like bubbles."

Jim met her eyes, grinning like a madman. "Is that the Bean?"

Pam nodded enthusiastically, and Jim swept her up into his arms, spinning her around. As soon as he put her down, his hands were back on her belly.

"God, Pam, that's incredible!" He kissed her with gusto, holding her face in his hands. "Let's go find out what it is!"

Pam laughed, finding his giddiness adorable. "Well, all signs so far point to a baby."

"Ha-ha. Funny, Beesly. Meet me at home and we'll take your new little blue car, okay?"

She nodded in the affirmative, and they were on their way. It made Pam happy that Jim had called her townhouse "home" even though he had his own place in Stamford. She knew he'd caught the slip-up, too.

The day had only gotten better from there. Their new sonogram photo showed their baby girl sucking her thumb, and according to Dr. O'Dell, she was very healthy for her age, if not a little chubby. Pam made a Fat Halpert joke, and Jim kindly reminded her that she'd be Mrs. Fat Halpert soon enough.

He'd taken her to Cugino's for their date, partly because he had special news, and also because as soon as he'd mentioned it Pam suddenly couldn't live without their chicken alfredo. After they ordered, Jim clasped her hands in his across the table. He could barely contain his excitement.

"Pam," he started. "The Stamford branch is closing, and I have the opportunity to transfer back here."

Pam's eyes lit up, but she could tell he wasn't finished.

"And that's not all. If I transfer, I'll be promoted to Assistant Regional Manager, Michael's number two. The branches are combining, so it'll actually mean something."

Pam grinned. "Dwight is going to be _so_ pissed."

Jim laughed. "I know! But there's just one problem."

Pam's face fell. "What's that?"

"Well, I'd need a place to live, and on pretty short notice. I mean, my first day is tomorrow and I really don't like hotels."

The grin returned in full force. "I think I may be able to help you with that."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say."

The rest of their dinner had gone by in a happy haze. Jim and Pam split a slice of tiramisu and talked excitedly about their future, discussing everything from which pieces of furniture Jim could bring from Stamford to their favorite names for a baby girl. They'd played footsie under the table like a couple of amorous teenagers. It wasn't until the ride home that it all hit the fan.

"Won't it be nice to not have to hide anymore?" Jim had asked with a smile.

"What do you mean?" she asked slowly, her face paling.

"I mean being open, you know, about us, and about Fat Halpert in there." He reached across the center console to rub her belly.

"Jim," she started, using the same voice she'd used to shoot him down on Casino Night. He knew that voice.

He _hated_ that voice.

"You have got to be kidding me, Beesly."

"What?" she said, clearly agitated. "It's hard enough going to work like this as it is."

"And it won't be even harder pretending we're not together? Pam, come on."

"It's nothing we haven't done before," she pointed out angrily.

"Yeah, and it's why I moved to fucking Stamford, if you remember" he spat back.

Pam huffed and slammed herself back into her seat. She tried crossing her arms over her chest, but her belly got in the way so she rested her hands on it. She looked out the window and crossed her legs away from him, making a point of ignoring Jim. She was so dead-set on not talking to him that she didn't say a word when Jim headed in the complete opposite direction of her house. She didn't say a word when Jim drove them to Lake Scranton, and she didn't say a word as they got out of the car and walked toward the shore.

They sat on the swings for a while, swaying silently and listening to the water. There was a chill in the September night air, and Pam pulled her arms in close to her body to ward it off. Despite her best efforts, she shivered, and without hesitation Jim took his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. Pam felt herself soften as he rubbed her arms before he went back to his own swing.

"Pam, I pretended every day for three years that I didn't love you, and it was hell. It's the reason I left Scranton, you know that. I couldn't do it anymore."

"I know," she said quietly. Her feet didn't quite touch the sand beneath them.

"I just," he started, kicking the sand under the swing. "It was so hard, Pam. I don't know if I can do it again."

She nodded, but still faced the water.

"They're gonna find out sometime."

"I know, but does it have to be now? Angela _just_ stopped calling me a hussy, and it's not like you'll have Roy to worry about. Just give it a little time, please."

Her voice was pleading, and Jim felt his resolve crack. She did have a good point; he'd only have to pretend he didn't love her at work, and then they'd go home together. He wouldn't have to pretend he didn't love her and then watch her go home with _Roy_ every day. He'd give a little.

"I'll try, Pam," he said. "But we're telling them in two weeks no matter what, if they haven't figured it out by then. They're idiots, Beesly, but they're not blind. Also, I think I should tell you that Kevin already has a betting pool going for when you're going to pop, and another one for who the father is."

"You're joking," Pam said, incredulous. Jim shook his head.

"He emailed me last week to ask if I wanted to place a bet."

"Did you?"

"I told him I'd think about it and get back to him later, but I _did_ ask who everybody else was betting on."

"You have to tell me."

"Well, everyone who understands how babies are made is betting on late January," he started. "And everyone who can count _and_ has a pretty good sense of deductive reasoning is betting on yours truly."

"So how many is that?"

"Three people, but none of them are Kevin."

"Nice." She smiled. "Hey Halpert?"

"Yeah, Beesly?"

"Was that our first fight?"

"Yeah, I think it was," he said, rising from his swing.

Pam scrunched her nose in distaste. "I didn't like it," she said. "Let's never do it again, okay?"

Jim offered her his hand and she took it, gladly accepting help up from the swing. He pulled her in close to him and kissed her gently on the lips, and then planted a kiss on her forehead, smiling as though he'd been lobotomized.

"Beesly, I am all for that."


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Okay, so have I told you all just how lovely you are? Because you're all lovely, and so are your reviews which pushed me to get this chapter out just a little bit faster (wink, nudge). If there are any Battlestar Galactica nerds reading this, I hope I got the Cylon stuff right. I hope you all enjoy chapter nine!

Six Weeks

Chapter Nine

The next day, Pam and Jim rode to the office separately. Jim, who had decided that he wouldn't make it an easy two weeks of pretending, had whined the whole morning about how impractical it was to take two different cars to the same place from the same house. And when whining hadn't worked, he'd offered to buy her a sausage biscuit and hash browns from McDonald's on the way. Then she'd _almost_ cracked, but instead Pam grabbed a s'mores pop-tart and glared at him as she went out the door to her car.

Jim bought her breakfast anyway. Partly because he thought she was adorable when she made her angry face, but mostly because he knew how Pam's cravings worked. All he had to do was mention a food, any food, even in passing, and Pam would think about it all day. Unfortunately for Pam, McDonald's would have long stopped serving sausage biscuits by the time she could go get one. And while Jim wanted it to be a difficult two weeks, he knew better than to toy with Pam's cravings. That would mean certain death, and Jim definitely did not want to die.

It had ended up working out exceptionally well for Jim's plan. He called her desk, and told her to say she'd left something in her car so she could come to the parking lot and get her breakfast, and then gave her a five minute head start before he walked into the building after her. Pam probably thought that meant he was going to go easy on her today.

Pam thought wrong.

Jim walked into the office a little bit after nine, apparently the first of the Stamford transfers to arrive. Pam looked up from her desk to say a quick, familiar "Hey Jim" before focusing on her work again. Jim would not let that stand. Honestly, it was just bad acting.

"Pam Beesly, is that how you greet an old friend?"

For a split second, she looked like she was going to kill him, but then realized that Jim had created an excuse for her to hug him at work, which she promptly took advantage of. The hug was a little too close and lasted a little too long, and Pam realized a little too late that she'd taken Jim's bait. Hook, line, and sinker. He was wearing the cologne that he knew she liked, and it was wreaking havoc on her already-inflated libido. Well if he was playing dirty, Pam could play that way, too. Pam squeezed him a little tighter, pressing her swollen breasts firmly against him before pulling away. She heard his breath hitch and smiled.

"Hi, Jim!" she said, feigning excitement. "Better?"

He nodded. "Much. Thank you."

She thought she was off the hook, but then Jim directed his attention to her bump. For something he'd just talked to that morning, he sure did look surprised to see it. And now the entire office was watching. Pam really was going to kill him.

"Oh wow, it's true! I mean, I'd heard about it, but seeing it-" he pulled her in again for a quick hug, and Pam found herself overwhelmed by his scent once again. She'd be lucky to last a day if he kept this up. "Congratulations, Pam."

"Thanks, Jim."

"So, how was the wedding?"

Pam's face fell and Jim knew instantly that he'd taken it too far. She held up her left hand, the back of it facing him. To everyone else, she was just showing him the lack of a wedding band, but Jim knew she was pointing out that she wasn't wearing his ring either, and it stung.

"You tell me, Halpert."

The look in her eyes was murderous, and Jim would be lying if he said he wasn't just a little bit afraid. Pam went back to her desk and focused intently on her computer screen. After almost a solid minute of Jim staring at Pam, she looked up. His eyes were apologetic, and he mouthed the words "I'm sorry," but Pam just looked back down at her desk, her lips pressed into a thin line.

She let him sweat for about an hour before she sent him an email.

From: PBeesly

To: JHalpert

_You are __**so **__making me dinner tonight. I'm talking grilled cheese and pickles __**and**__ jell-o. Also I've decided you have a special mission. Stand by for details._

He had to keep from sighing in relief at her message, and quickly moved to send her one back, mindful of Michael's email surveillance capabilities. He met her eyes and she smiled devilishly.

From: JHalpert

To: PBeesly

_You got it. I will never, ever understand how pickles and grilled cheese go together, but I'll make it that way, just for you. Why the jell-o? You hate jell-o. Craving? A special mission, you say? Do tell. Also, did I mention that I'm really, really sorry?_

From: PBeesly

To: JHalpert

_You know, you may have mentioned it. I accept your apology. And yes, the jell-o __**is**__ a craving, and I'm blaming it on Fat Halpert. And about your special mission… You'll have to wait until lunch, which you are buying me, for the complete briefing._

From: JHalpert

To: PBeesly

_Deal._

… … …

An hour before lunch, Michael opened his office door, a solemn look on his face. He leaned against it, "world's best boss" mug in hand, and scanned the office. He cleared his throat and looked in Jim's direction.

"Jim, can I talk to you in my office for a second? Man-o a boss-o?"

Jim met Pam's eyes, and she shrugged, clueless. "Uh, sure."

He followed Michael inside and sat down in one of the generic blue office chairs across from the desk. Jim leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him while Michael leaned his swivel chair back as far as it would go and shifted around uncomfortably. Jim daydreamed about the chair tipping backwards with Michael in it and half-smiled.

Michael took a few loud, drawn out deep breaths while he literally twiddled his thumbs. Jim had never seen anybody actually twiddle their thumbs before, but now knew that it wasn't just a figure of speech. He could see the wheels turning in Michael's brain, rusty cogs scraping together, cobwebs impeding their motion. Jim had never seen Michael concentrate so hard on finding words, which meant that this conversation would either be about downsizing or women, and might involve role playing.

Jim was trying to decide which would be more awkward when Michael finally spoke.

"So, Jim," Michael started. His voice held the tone of a parent trying to explain the death of a goldfish to a five year old. This was definitely about women. Jim hoped to god there would be no role playing. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Pam is pregnant."

Jim feigned shock, which only made Michael look even more uncomfortable.

"Well, she is, and she's not telling anybody who the father is except that it isn't Roy, and if you _ask_ her about it she goes crazy nutzo hormones on you and it's just," he waved his hands in front of him as if the thought was something tangible that he could scatter. "Unpleasant."

"O-kay," Jim said slowly. He leaned back and drummed his fingertips on his knees. "Why are you telling me this?"

Michael looked at Jim like he was a complete moron and picked up a pencil, fidgeting with it. "Because, I know you have a _major thing_ for Pam, and I just wanted to make sure you knew about it before you went after her. I mean, she's single and you're single, but that is some _major baggage_, you know?"

"Yeah," Jim said curtly. When Michael didn't reply, Jim stood and motioned toward the door. "If we're done here, I'm gonna…"

"Oh, yeah. Nothing else."

"Great."

Jim passed reception on the way back to his desk. He grabbed a handful of jellybeans and informed Pam that they were now even.

… … …

Immediately after they sat down at Alfredo's Pizza Café, Jim demanded to know what his special mission was. It made Pam happy that he was so excited, and the Bean fluttered to echo it.

"Okay, before I tell you what your secret assignment is, you have to swear something."

"Okay, what's that?"

"So, I had to do some research for this prank. Some really nerdy research, and you can't make fun of me."

Jim's face lit up in excitement. "Beesly, I can try, but I promise nothing."

"Fine. No secret mission."

"No! No, I promise! I promise. Okay, shoot."

Pam folded her hands in front of her on the table, her expression somber. Jim noticed how the light caught her engagement ring and smiled.

"James Frances Halpert," she started gravely. His face wrinkled like a child's at the sound of his middle name. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to convince Dwight that you are a Cylon."

"A what, Pam?"

"A Cylon," she reiterated. "From _Battlestar Galactica_." She mumbled the last part, but Jim heard her, his face bursting into a grin.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Pam interrupted.

"You promised you wouldn't make fun of me!"

"You watched _Battlestar Galactica_!" Jim was laughing hysterically now, his grin so wide it must've hurt.

"It was research!"

"You watched _Battlestar Galactica_!"

"You promised!"

Jim took a moment to school his features into a straight face, and then leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Okay, so how do we do this?"

Pam handed him a manila folder and a small box, then began her explanation.

… … …

Pam had to keep from giggling as Jim pretended his ears were bothering him. Dwight was watching him, an irritated look on his face.

"Jim, are you okay?" she asked.

He looked up at her, startled. "No, actually, I'm not. Pam, are you listening to music?"

Pam crinkled her eyebrows. "Nope. Nobody is, Jim."

"Weird," he said, thoughtfully. "I keep hearing this song. It's like… I don't know."

"Like what, Jim?" Dwight took the bait. "Do you have a fever?"

"No, no." Jim waved the question off. "It's really weird. I can only hear bits and pieces, but it's like something from a long time ago."

"What does it sound like?"

Jim hummed a little bit of 'All Along the Watchtower,' and Dwight looked visibly alarmed. "It's like I knew it when I was a kid or something."

"That _does_ sound really familiar, Jim," Pam piped up from reception.

"It's coming from that direction," Jim gestured towards her. "Are you messing with me, Pam?"

Pam looked concerned. "No, I'm not. Dwight, do you hear anything?"

"No," he said, looking at Jim warily. "I don't."

Dwight pulled out a small notebook from his desk and wrote something down, never looking entirely away from Jim, who just shook his head and said "Weird," before picking up his phone and making sales calls as if nothing had happened. A few moments later, Dwight did the same. Jim met her eyes and made a face that said "It's working!" and Pam had to giggle at his excitement.

At her giggle, the Bean moved, and Pam made a surprised "Oh!" at the action as her hands moved to her belly. Kelly, who had been at the copier, was behind reception with Pam in an instant.

"What's going on? Is it kicking? Can I feel it?" Kelly seemed to ask all three questions at the same time, but Pam was used to it by now.

"Yeah," Pam took Kelly's hand, positioning it where the Bean was. "She just poked me, right about there. Feel it?" The Bean moved again, and Kelly squealed.

"Oh my god! That is so cool! Oh my god! You said 'she'! Oh my god, it's a girl! You're having a baby girl! Oh my god! Just like Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes!"

Pam sighed inwardly but maintained her smile as she resigned herself to at least half an hour of Kelly talking at warp speed about pink onesies and celebrity babies.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, guys. Life's been crazy, and it's only just now that it's slowing down. So, here's chapter ten! I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you have a lot of fun reading it, too. The next chapter won't take me so long, I promise! I just need some inspiration (by inspiration, I mean reviews).

Six Weeks

Chapter 10

Pam was in an extremely chipper mood this morning, and Jim had no idea why. She hummed softly as she made coffee in the break room, and Jim could have sworn she _bounced_ to the fax machine. He also noticed that Kelly was lingering around the reception desk, and Pam didn't seem to mind at all. Maybe she was so giddy because he hadn't messed with her in a couple of days, but that didn't explain Kelly, and he also knew that Pam was too smart to not stay on her toes. Jim fully intended to prank her today, and he was sure it would lead to her telling their coworkers the truth a full week before the deadline he'd set. When he told her that this morning, she'd laughed. He'd definitely make her pay for that.

But first, he had to get to the bottom of his fiancée's mood. He walked up to reception and leaned on the desk, picking a few jellybeans out of the ever-present jar and tossing them into his mouth. As soon as he bit down, his face morphed from an expression of curiosity and contentment to one of pure, unadulterated horror as his mouth was filled with the taste of vomit and other foul things he couldn't name but definitely did not like. These were not ordinary jelly beans, and Pam's giggle confirmed his suspicions that he had been gotten. He forced himself to swallow, his eyes watering.

"That…was uncalled for."

"What, you don't like the Harry Potter jellybeans? I guess I'll have to throw out my Thanksgiving Jones Sodas."

Jim was about to make a witty reply when Michael walked in with a large piece of butcher paper. Pam's face lit up in excitement and Kelly started bouncing and chanting "belly tracing day!" as Michael taped the paper up behind Pam's desk. Within seconds it seemed the entire office was crowded around reception, and Jim found himself squished uncomfortably between Kevin and Kelly.

"Okay, Pammaroo! You know the drill. Sweater off, back straight and against the dotted line."

Pam smiled and she did as she was told, even making a show of standing up perfectly straight. She took off her cardigan and Jim's posture stiffened. The top button of her blouse was undone, and the two below it were straining to stay closed. Jim found that his mouth was uncomfortably dry, and the Harry Potter jellybean aftertaste definitely was _not_ helping.

"Mom boobs," Kevin said. "_Nice._"

Jim expected her to be offended, maybe even to cry a little. With Pam's hormones, you could never tell what her reactions were going to be. It was almost as if her emotions were crumpled pieces of paper in a top hat, and every time anyone said _anything, _she picked one out and ran with it. But today, it didn't seem like anything could get Pam down.

"Kevin, we had a deal. I guess I get to keep your M&Ms at my desk for the rest of the day."

Jim had never seen Kevin look so heartbroken, not even in the days after Stacy left him, as he left reception to get his prized jar of M&Ms. Michael pulled a Sharpie out of his pocket and moved to trace Pam's belly. When he finished, he asked Kelly for a ruler like a surgeon 

demanded a scalpel. Pam moved aside as Michael meticulously measured the distance from the curve marked "4" to the one marked "5".

"Well, Michael? How much have I grown this month?"

"Patience, Pamela," Dwight scolded. "Precise measurements take ti-"

"THREE AND FIVE EIGHTHS!"

… … …

Lunchtime came and went without even a hint of Jim's Amazing Prank. Pam was getting more and more anxious as time passed. When Andy approached her desk around three, Pam had to struggle to keep from ripping his head off, and all he'd done so far was lean against the reception desk.

"So, Pam," he started, leering at her in a way he must've thought was suave. "You're single, right?"

Pam glanced at Jim, who was pretending to focus on his computer screen. Despite his efforts, Pam could see the small smirk on his face and knew that this was it.

"Yup. I'm single."

"How'd you like not to be?"

"Excuse me?"

"Look, I know you're pregnant and all, but Andy Bernard is not a picky guy. Instant family! Score! He's also a Pisces, avid speedskater, and speaks _fluent_ pig latin. At-whay oo-day ou-yay ay-say Am-Pay?" He punctuated the sentence with a confident half-nod.

"Oh…my."

"Is that a yes?"

"No."

"What if I gave you this?"

Between his thumb and forefinger, Andy held a small diamond ring. No wonder Jim had reminded her to take her ring off when they got back to the office after lunch. She would not fall for this.

"Really?"

At this, Andy got down on one knee, offering the ring up to her. "Pamela…Elizabeth? Beesly, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

"Absolutely not."

"Wh…Why not?"

"Because Jim put you up to this."

"How did y- no he didn't. I've been admiring you from afar for weeks."

"What's my middle name again?"

Andy shot a panicked glance at Jim, who suddenly became interested in his computer screen.

"It starts with an M."

"I totally knew that, Pamela…Madeleine Beesly."

"That's a pretty name. Unfortunately, it isn't mine."

"Marie."

"Nope."

"Michelle."

"Gross."

"Mi…misiku."

"What?"

"_That_ is the name of the kid from _Jungle 2 Jungle_," Jim piped up from his desk.

"Oh! Classic. Not my name, though."

"Miranda."

"Maybe, if I was a mermaid."

"So, not Miranda."

"No."

"Mary."

"No."

"Matilda."

"Still no."

"Hey Pam, are you sure it's an M?"

"You know, Jim, I'm really not. It could be some other letter."

"Maybe the M is silent," he offered. Pam looked intrigued.

"Like Johnny Mnemonic," Dwight added.

"Oh, come on! I can't feel my knee!"

"Your knee or your mknee?" Jim asked.

"What? My knee. My knee is numb."

"You're sure it's not your mknee?"

"That's what I said."

"Oh, but it isn't."

… … …

It had ended in Pam and Jim, with Dwight's assistance, somehow confusing Andy to the point of punching a wall. Though the entire ordeal was about thirty minutes of pure torture for Pam, she hadn't spilled the beans. Jim, frankly, was running out of ideas.

Fortunately for Jim, he wouldn't have to think of one.

"I think we broke his brain," Pam giggled to Jim across the reception desk.

"I feel kinda bad, though. I mean, I know it was only a matter of time, but still. We got a guy sent to anger management."

"I know! It's like, a record for us."

"That's a horrible thing to say."

"Whatever. You love me."

For the second time that day, Jim's coming reply was cut off by someone walking through the door and stealing Pam's attention. But unlike the first time, Pam's reaction wasn't a happy squeal. Instead, her face went ghostly pale and her hands went protectively to her belly.

"Well isn't this _cute!_" Roy snarled. "Mama Pam and Papa _Halpert_ making moony-eyes at each other."

Roy's eyes were bloodshot, dark circles around them as if he'd rubbed his eyes with ink on his hands. He looked like he hadn't slept, or shaved, or been sober in months. His beard was scraggly and unkempt, his warehouse shirt stained on the collar and only half tucked-in. Pam wondered if he even knew how to do his own laundry. Roy stumbled toward them, gesturing haphazardly at the couple.

"What a _nice_ family portrait we got here," he slurred. "Mommy and Daddy and _baby_ makes three. How fucking _sweet_."

"Roy, you shouldn't be up here," Pam protested softly.

"Really? You know where _I_ shouldn't be?" he yelled. "That's just _dandy_ because _you_ didn't seem to know you shouldn't be fucking _Halpert_ a month and a half before our _wedding_!"

If that hadn't gotten the office's attention, Pam didn't know what would. Her face suddenly filled with color.

"Roy! Leave, now!" At her raised voice, Dwight rose from his desk and stood at attention. Pam shot a glance in his direction, which he returned with a determined nod. Pam would never, in a million years, admit that the gesture was somewhat comforting.

"Oh, _relax_, would ya Pammy? I'm not here to talk to _you_. I just want to say a few things to Halpert."

The following moments would forever be a blur in Pam's memory.

The punch was the hardest one that Roy had ever thrown, and surprisingly on-target given his blood-alcohol content. His fist landed with a sickening _crack!_ on Jim's face, and Pam knew from the sound that one of them had broken something, hoping it was Roy's knuckles rather than Jim's nose. Jim landed on the carpet with a dull _thud_, and Pam flew to his side, lightly slapping his cheeks to wake him up. Without a moment's hesitation, Dwight launched himself over his desk and tackled Roy to the ground, armed with a small can of pepper spray.

… … …

Jim could hear Pam's voice through the blackness.

"Dwight, he doesn't _need_ CPR. He's breathing fine."

Jim could hear the familiar rustle of fabric, and felt a pair of hands lift his head, then put it back down on something soft. Then he heard Dwight's insistent voice.

"Pamela," he said gravely. "Jim's life is at stake here. You have to trust me."

_No, if my life was at stake there would be trained paramedics giving me CPR. _You_ are a volunteer sheriff's deputy. On the weekends._

He felt fingers hold his nostrils closed and warm exhalation on his mouth, and it dawned on him exactly what was about to happen. Jim willed himself to regain consciousness.

_Come on, Jim_. _Wake up,_ he thought._ Dwight is about to touch you. With his mouth. Wake the fuck up. This has ceased to be funny. Wake. Up._

Nothing.

Jim felt Dwight's lips touch his, and that was enough. He sat up with a start, effectively hitting his bruised nose on Dwight's face, the intense pain making his eyes water. Dwight reached out to push Jim back down, but Jim pushed his arm out of the way and stood.

"What the _hell_, Dwight! Were you just trying to _kiss_ me?"

"I was only trying to save your _life_, Jim."

"Last time I checked, Dwight, people who are _breathing_ don't need CPR, which leads me to believe that you were taking advantage of me in my unconscious state."

"That is one hundred percent fallacy! Michael!"

Dwight made a beeline for Michael's office, and Jim gestured for Pam to stand next to him. He held the bridge of his nose between his fingers as they faced the crowd that had assembled. Pam pulled her engagement ring out of her pocket and slipped it on.

"Well," Jim started. "This isn't the way we wanted to tell you guys, but here it is. Pam and I are engaged."

"And as far as _this_ goes," Pam said, pointing to her belly. "Those of you who bet on Jim can collect."

They heard a "Yes!" and an "I knew it!" from the back of the crowd, while Phyllis and Oscar simply smiled slyly and quietly made their way to Kevin's desk. Angela glared. Stanley hadn't looked up from his crossword puzzle throughout the entire ordeal, and Kelly had about six million questions for them, squealed so fast and excitedly that they were barely intelligible.

Jim had never been so happy to have just been punched in the face.

"Kelly! Pause!" Pam commanded. "We have to go to the hospital. Why don't you write all of your questions down and put them in my inbox, okay? I'll answer all of them when we get back."

Kelly bounce-walked back to the annex while Pam and Jim let Michael know they were leaving. Right when they got to the door, they heard a shout from inside.

"Jim, stay out there! Only Pam!"

Pam and Jim exchanged curious looks before Pam went into Michael's office alone. Michael was sitting behind his desk, his hands folded in front of him. His posture was completely normal, which was Pam's first indication that something was wrong. A quick look at his face confirmed it; something big was bothering him, and he wanted Pam to know about it.

"Is something wrong, Michael?"

As soon as it came out of her mouth, Pam knew she shouldn't have said it. She blamed her hormones; her brand new motherly instinct had her providing a listening ear to everyone in the office who needed it, whether she wanted to or not. And when Michael looked up at her, expression serious and ready to talk, she knew she was in for it.

"I just…can't believe you didn't tell me it was Jim's" Michael whined. "I mean, I am your boss. When two of my employees _do it_, I should be the first person to know! I should be in the _loop_ about these things, Pam, and you left me out of it."

"Michael, we left _everyone_ out of it, not just you."

"But I'm your friend, Pam! And friends share! Pass that on to Jim, too."

"Jim's right outside; you can tell him yourself."

"No…Blood really…just weirds me out. And I'm mad at him."

"Michael, we're sorry we didn't tell you. We just weren't ready to have everybody in the office know yet."

Michael waved his hands dismissively, and Pam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"No, no. I lost twenty bucks."

"Okay. How is that Jim's fault?"

"He told me to bet on Creed."


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Holy crap, you guys. I am so sorry that it's been so long since I've added to this story, but I hope I can bribe you. Here's a new chapter for you! I think there will only be one or two more, and then we'll meet the lovely Bean. I won't promise, but I will try my best to get them to you faster than, well, this. This is a short chapter, but I hope you all like it.

Six Weeks

Chapter 11

"A Cylon attack is not a joke, Jim!" Dwight yelled, drawing the attention of everyone in the office. He waved an octagonal piece of paper around that was apparently the source of his frustration.

"Cylons are fictional, so yes, it most definitely _is_ a joke."

"They are a potential threat to humanity, and are not to be taken lightly!"

Jim looked like he was about to say something but instead bent almost in half to let out a loud sneeze, bringing his hands up to his face to cover it.

"Hey, Dwight, I think my contact fell out. Can you help me find it?"

With a lengthy sigh, the bespectacled man crouched with Jim under the desk to look for his contact lens. Dwight's eyes went wide when they met Jim's, and fleeting look of terror shot across his face. Jim's left iris was bright red.

"Cylon!" Dwight roared.

Jim immediately shushed him. "Dwight, come on, man!" he whisper-shouted. "It's been like that since I was a kid!"

"You did not have a childhood, Jim. You are a machine!" Dwight whisper-shouted back.

"What? No! I distinctly remember my brother poking me in the eye with a twig when I was seven. Help me find my contact, please."

"Jim," Dwight said gravely. "There is a possibility that you have that memory because it was programmed into you. You could be a Cylon without even knowing it. Like Boomer."

Jim snapped his head up and grabbed Dwight's tie, jerking his face close enough to mingle their breaths.

"_All of this has happened before. All of this will happen again._"

As quickly as he'd grabbed it, Jim let go of Dwight's tie, releasing him. Dwight opened his mouth to speak, but instead could only stare dumbly at Jim.

"Found it!" Jim grinned and held up a finger (with a green circle drawn on the tip courtesy of Pam), rolled his eyes and stood up from under the desk, making a beeline for the bathroom. After a second Dwight attempted to follow, hitting his head under Jim's desk in the process.

Pam giggled at her desk, and the Bean kicked her agreement.

… … …

"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam," she greeted, more cheerily than usual. She was always happier on belly tracing day, and this was the second to last one. The excitement in the office was palpable.

"Hey, Pam," said a too-cheerful voice on the other end of the line. "It's Mom."

"Hi, Mom! Were you calling to wish me a happy eight months?"

Pam's mother was quiet for a disconcerting moment. "Yes, that's part of it. But I really called to speak to Jim- is he around?"

"Yeah," Pam said cautiously. "I'll transfer you to him."

Pam pressed the necessary buttons and put her receiver back into its cradle, carefully watching Jim as he answered his phone.

"Jim Halpert," he answered. "Hey, Mrs. Beesly!...I'm fine, how are you?...Good, I'm glad to hear that."

Then Jim's wide smile dropped from his face.

"Mrs. Beesly, it's not that I..." Pam couldn't make out the rest of what he said, because Jim had lowered his voice and turned his chair away from her. Pam's eyebrows furrowed in an amalgam of confusion and concern.

"Yeah," Jim said resignedly, turning back to his desk and running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Mrs. Beesly, I'll tell her… No, I've got it... Yeah, you too. Bye."

His expression was more serious than she'd ever seen as he approached her desk. He opened his mouth to speak, but before Jim could say anything, Michael burst through the office door with the rolled-up piece of butcher paper, sharpie, and a ruler.

"Happy eight-month baby-versary, Grey Pampon!"

Michael taped the large sheet to the wall, and turned to Pam excitedly, motioning for her to take her position in front of the paper.

"Hey, Michael?" she started. "I was thinking we should wait to do this until after lunch."

"Aw, man! Whyyyy?" Michael whined petulantly.

"Because," Jim started, eyebrows raised at Pam in a plea for her to think of something to say. Pam's eyes widened as she scrambled for words, and lit up when she found them.

"Because if we wait until after I've eaten lunch, my belly will be even bigger!" Pam exclaimed. "It's almost the last belly tracing day. We want it to count, don't we?"

"_Fine_," Michael reluctantly agreed. "But you make sure to eat a big lunch, okay?"

Pam nodded, and Jim met her eyes and jerked his head toward the door.

… … …

"I can't _believe_ you!" Pam yelled. Her voice echoed in the stairwell, and Jim flinched at the volume. There was no way they couldn't hear this in the office. _Oh well,_ he thought. _So much for privacy._

"Pam, _calm down_," Jim said in a low voice. "It's not what you think."

"Really, Jim? _Really? _Would you be able to _calm down_ if- if I did this to you?" Pam's voice was still raised, but now there were tears filling her eyes. She looked utterly heartbroken. "You didn't… I mean, it's been almost six months since you proposed, and I'm due in a month and I…" Pam shook her head slowly, walking backwards towards the door. Jim started to move forward, but Pam put her hands up to stop him, her chin trembling from the sobs she was trying so hard to suppress.

"Is that why your mom didn't come to my baby shower?" she demanded. Jim didn't meet her eyes.

"Did you even mail her invitation?!" She was yelling again, her emotions ranging from blind rage to deep, profound sadness and back again.

"No, I didn't," he admitted quietly, hands shoved in his pockets.

"All this time, I thought she hated me! I thought maybe she didn't approve of our situation or something- God, Jim, I _agonized_ over it! How could you?"

"Pam, _please,_" Jim pleaded, reaching a hand out to grasp one of hers.

"Don't!" she yelped, ripping her hand away and clutching it to her chest as if she'd been burned. "Just- find somewhere to stay tonight, okay? Probably for a lot of nights."

"Pam, come on. Don't do this," he begged, his voice shaking, eyes wide and tear-filled and desperate. "_Please._ I love you."

Pam's face was pained when she replied, as if what she would say physically wound her. "Then why are you so _ashamed_ of me?"

The unadulterated hurt in her eyes was enough to send a fat tear rolling down Jim's cheek. He stepped forward, and Pam stepped back, leaning against the door.

"Pam, look at me," he started gently. "I could never be ashamed of you. Never. Look, it's just- Okay, my mother isn't like your mom. For one thing, she wouldn't even let us call her 'mom'. But she's not supportive or caring or anything like that and I just- the farther away from her you are, the better. You have to believe that I didn't tell my mother about you and the baby because I don't ever want to see you hurt, and the things she'd say…she'd try to destroy you, Pam. You have to believe that."

She twisted the ring on her finger, pulling it off and sliding it on again, her old nervous gesture making its triumphant return.

"Please, Pam. I love you. I'll call my mother right now if you want me to, if that's what it takes to make this okay."

"Were you ever going to tell her?"

Her question was met with a sigh. "Honestly? I don't know. I haven't spoken to her since my college graduation, which she didn't attend or pay for because I majored in journalism instead of international business."

"How did I not know about this?"

"Because I don't think about it on a regular basis. I mean, it's been over five years. I used to think about it all the time, but after a while… I just got over it I guess."

Pam was floored. In an instant, her arms were around him, anger and hurt replaced by overwhelming sympathy and a hug made awkward by Pam's belly. Pam would be glad when the Bean was out of her and she could finally stop feeling every emotion tenfold.

"Jim, I'm so sorry. My mom called and asked for your mom's number, and I found it in your address book. I didn't think-"

"Hey," he said sternly, lifting her chin up to meet her eyes. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, okay? None of this has anything to do with you. And, uh, now she knows, because I'm pretty sure your mom told her." Jim half-smiled at her, and Pam returned it.

"Problem solved?" she asked hopefully.

"Problem solved," he assured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Lunch?"

"Cugino's!"

Jim groaned. "Again?"

"It's not my fault," she protested.

"I know, I know," Jim said, defeated. Pam grinned and placed Jim's hand on her belly, where the Bean had been kicking earlier. The Bean immediately responded with a flurry of movement, eliciting a wide smile from Jim. "I think she just high-fived me!"

"Yeah, well, Bean loves that garlic bread."


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: I guess saying there's been a wait for this chapter would be an enormous understatement. I've had the first part written and on my computer for the better part of a year, but I just didn't know where to take it. That, and I had things to do- like graduate from college and get certified to teach- you know, little stuff. Anyway, I hope there are still some of you out there who've read this story who aren't so terribly angry at me that you wouldn't click the little link to continue (and maybe, just maybe, to review). There will be one more chapter after this one, and perhaps an epilogue after that. Since it's spring break and I don't have work, hopefully I can get those chapters up in a timely manner (read: not a year from now...yeesh, sorry about that one, folks).

Six Weeks

Chapter Twelve

Pam had seriously considered blowing off the last belly-tracing day. She had already started her maternity leave and would only be coming back, _on her due date_, because the office was on the way to the hospital where Pam would be induced (and also because Michael had begged, and agreeing was the only way she could get him off the floor). Her ankles were swollen and her back ached as she waddled and Jim walked into Dunder-Mifflin, and Pam was pleased to see that everyone in the office except Michael had already gathered at the reception desk, the butcher paper already in place.

And then she looked around.

The office was decorated with pink balloons and white streamers, and a stack of presents sat neatly on Jim's desk. She shot a look at Jim, who shook his head, and then at Phyllis and Angela, whose faces were purely apologetic. Michael had been behind this.

As if on cue, he burst from his office.

"WELCOME TO YOUR BABY SHOWAHHH!" he yelled, triggering a mass cringe from everybody else. "You didn't think we weren't going to throw one for you, did you?"

"Michael," Jim started. "We were just going to do the belly tracing and go to the hospital, we really can't stay."

"Not even for ice cream cake?"

"No, we should really-" Jim's sentence was interrupted by Pam, who all of a sudden looked a lot happier.

"We should really stay," Pam said. "For ice cream cake."

Everybody in the office, including Jim, stared at her in disbelief.

"What? I'm not in labor _yet_, and ice cream cake is delicious," she continued, incredulous.

The staring continued.

"Somebody get the pregnant lady some ice cream cake!"

Jim doubted Michael had ever been more smug in his life.

…

A short ten minutes later, it was time to open presents. Jim was insisting that they speed things along, because they were going to miss their appointment, despite arguments from Dwight that inducing birth was unnatural and the baby would come when it was ready. Angela had already explained, in surprising (and, frankly, disgusting) detail how she always waited patiently for Sprinkles to give birth through several litters of kittens, and offered only minimal assistance during the long, arduous process. She and Dwight were about to lecture Jim and Pam about the benefits of hiring a midwife and the joys of natural labor when the couple suddenly declared that it was about time to get to those presents.

So Pam sat in Jim's desk chair, trying to decide which present to open first, and apparently taking entirely too long, as seconds later a pink box was thrust into Pam's lap by her anxious fiancé. Pam grinned at its appearance. The box wasn't baby girl pink, it was _hot_ pink. It was also covered entirely in glitter. Pam looked up to see Kelly clutching Ryan's arm and bouncing up and down, making a squealing noise so high pitched Pam was sure only pregnant women and dogs could hear. Judging from Ryan's face, though, he could hear it too. Pam had barely gotten the wrapping paper off before Kelly started talking.

"So the onesies are from Nicole Richie's baby line, and they'd been in my closet for_ever_ and then I was like, 'hey, Pam's having a girl!' and it just seemed _too perfect_, you know? It's a good thing you're not having a boy, though, because then I wouldn't have any Nicole Richie baby clothes left and they're just so cute they make me want to _die_."

Ryan's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

"Are you pregnant, Kelly?" Pam asked. She knew what the answer was going to be, but honestly she'd just wanted to see if Ryan's eyes could open even wider. They could.

Kelly shook her head as if the question had been entirely stupid.

"No, but I'm prepared!" She punctuated her answer with a kiss on an extremely relieved-looking Ryan's cheek.

The next box was wrapped all in white, from Stanley, and Pam let Jim open it. Inside was a toaster that Pam recognized instantly from her wedding registry. But before she or Jim could say thank you, Dwight let out a chuckle that was just loud enough to get Jim's attention. He tossed a glance in Pam's direction, and she nodded slightly, confirming Jim's suspicions.

"What's so funny, Dwight?" Pam asked as innocently as she could.

Dwight smirked in response, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's a _toaster_," Dwight started, as if what he was about to say was the most obvious thing in the world. "An appropriate gift considering the child's… unique heritage."

Met with only the blankest of stares, Dwight continued.

"A toaster for the toaster! Come on!"

Jim and Pam had to struggle to keep their faces straight.

"Dwight," Jim said seriously. "That is extremely insensitive."

Before Dwight could respond, Pam had moved on to another present, and his attempt at "outing" Jim as a Cylon had been effectively thwarted. From Meredith, they received a bottle of Jack Daniels, because "if you take a couple shots before you breast feed, the baby'll sleep straight through the night," a statement corroborated by Creed, whose name had been added hastily to the attached card. Phyllis knitted the baby two receiving blankets from soft, pastel yarn. Michael scoffed at the sight of Phyllis's knitting, but Pam and Jim thanked her warmly.

Angela gave them a long, bright white Christening gown with lace so delicate and beautiful that it brought tears to Pam's eyes. A rare smile graced Angela's face as the two women shared a little moment of sentiment and understanding (even though the understanding was that given the child's dubious legitimacy, it needed all the help it could get). Dwight's gift to the baby was a wooden bassinet, carved from a silver maple tree that had fallen on his beet farm. When Jim thanked him, Dwight insisted that "No thanks are necessary, Jim. The tree was dead, and I simply did not want good wood to go to waste," to which Michael responded, predictably, "That's what she said!"

…

Larissa Van Zandt Halpert had been sitting in the waiting room of the maternity ward of Mercy Hospital in Scranton for approximately one hour. She knew Pam and Jim were scheduled for a three o'clock inducement, so she had sensibly shown up at two-thirty that afternoon, after making the drive from Hartford. Well, if one wanted to get technical, she had been _driven, _but she had always found long drives to be harrowing endeavors whether behind the wheel or not. Despite her best efforts, Larissa's patience was beginning to wear thin.

_Be reasonable_, she told herself. _They don't even know you're coming. Do not get angry, it will ruin everything you are trying to accomplish_.

Though her friends in Hartford were kind enough to avoid the subject, Larissa was shamed by the fact that her pride had kept her from seeing or speaking to her eldest son in almost five years. But, she resolved, her stubborn pride would not prevent her from seeing her first grandchild, legitimate or not. For the first time since she married her late husband, Norman (who was at least three rungs lower on the social ladder than she was), she found herself not caring that her friends (old biddies, really) would have a field day if they knew.

So she made some minor adjustments to her hair, straightened her posture, and settled in.

…

It was an eventful thirty minutes before Pam and Jim could make their escape from Dunder-Mifflin. First, Michael had tried, unsuccessfully to get Pam to play several different baby shower games, most of which were either inappropriate or embarrassing. It wasn't until Pam's water broke as Michael traced her belly that Jim finally put his foot down and insisted that they leave for Mercy Hospital.

Pam had never seen Jim drive so fast. She could have sworn that Jim's sudden accelerations were having the same effect on her contractions; she had only just started having them and already they were within four minutes of each other and only getting closer together. She was pretty sure she'd broken Jim's hand, because he had insisted shortly after the first three bad ones that he should keep his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel.

"Hey," Jim said, trying to lighten the mood while speeding down the highway like a madman. "At least we know you're not going to spend all night doing this, right?"

Pam offered a weak smile, which turned quickly into a scowl when she saw the blue and red lights reflecting in Jim's rearview mirror.

_Shit._

…

Dwight and Angela shared a look over their small victory; the baby was coming because she was ready, not because Western Medicine had decided it was so. If only they could supervise the delivery to make sure Pam didn't bow to the pain and accept an epidural. _Oh well_, Angela decided, her mouth settling into its usual thin line. She could only hope that some of her stories about Sprinkles had hit home with those two.


End file.
